Page 11 of Gin and Bear It

Or…

I look at my laptop on my side table, the corner of the Post-it that Ash scribbled his details on poking out like a beacon. I haven’t moved it since we ran into each other Sunday.

No. I can’t marry the one guy who drives me insane. He’s the antithesis of love. He thinks relationships are stupid and always implode.

I throw myself out of bed, grab my laptop, and go to the kitchen to get a drink. Pip follows, then wanders over to stare at his favorite spot on the ceiling above the living room couch. This building is old, so maybe that spot is haunted. Or there are mice in the walls who are chewing the wiring and this whole building will go up in flames as I sleep. Or they’re carrying the plague and will conveniently take care of my inheritance problem by infecting me.

“Relax!” I say to myself. “Fucking chill, please.”

Pip looks over his shoulder at me, then stares at the ceiling again.

I grab a seltzer from the fridge and crack it open, slamming as much of it as possible before the bubbles burn my mouth.

The Post-it tucked into my closed laptop calls out to me. But instead, I grab the dry erase marker stuck to my fridge and draw a line down the middle. I write pro on the left side, and con on the right. My brain is zipping a thousand miles per hour, and whenever it does that (which is almost always), I need to write to slow down.

The cons come fast. Strike one: He knowingly gave me my first kiss and pretended it never happened in front of all of his friends. For fifteen-year-old Jada, it was devastating. For adult Jada, it still kind of stings, to be honest. I’d held my first kiss up as this magical moment and he ruined it for me forever.

Strike two: He flirted with me hard at Wes’s wedding and, as I suspected, didn’t recognize me. To be fair, I was wearing a full beat of actually good makeup and my hair and glasses are different than they used to be, but good lord. My face isn’t that different.

That stings more than the first time he humiliated me. Like I got demoted from his brother’s dorky best friend to someone who isn’t even worthy of being remembered, despite being close to his family.

Strike three: In the same breath, he talked shit to my face about love after I told him how much it meant to me, like he was trying to make me feel bad. Weird flirting strategy, but with a face like that, it’s probably worked on someone. Or maybe there’s something about me that makes him an even bigger asshole than usual.

And with those three strikes, I can’t fake being in love with him to save my life. I’m not the best at keeping my emotions off my face unless I’m at work.

But the pros…they flow, too. The will doesn’t say anything about being married forever—it just says to be married to your true love. Could I suck it up for the whole year he needs a wife, pretending to be in love and married to him?

Then, another con: Who’s going to believe us? Waylon would be pissed as fuck, if he believed it. And my family definitely would not believe me, at least deep down. Then again, I’ve been hermited away for months, and Ash and I could have done something long distance. Maybe they could believe we’re together…

That’s a big-ass maybe.

Ash was always in trouble, but he never struck me as dumb. All I know is that he must be extremely desperate, maybe even more desperate than me.

I gnaw on the end of the dry-erase marker. The pros are weighty—the hotel is everything to me. My grandparents’ legacy means everything to me. And I’ve been wanting to do this my whole life. Plus, the staff need the hotel, too. It’s as much theirs as it is mine.

Danika would absolutely ruin it all. I’d prefer it to go to the historical society than her. They’d at least take care of it and have it as a landmark.

I stare at my closed laptop for another few beats. Then, I open it, rip off the note, grab my phone, and tap in Ash’s number. My thumb hovers over my phone screen for a moment before I dive in.

Me: I’m not saying yes to this. But we can talk about our…situation.

Ash’s response bubble pops up right away.

Ash: Your place, today. Address?

My eyes narrow.

Me: Why my place?

Ash: Because I’m staying with my fucking parents and I need to leave as long as possible for my own sanity. And my mom is a huge gossip. And if people see us together in public again, some nosy person might try to eavesdrop on us.

Me: Like you eavesdropped on me?

Ash: Address, Jada.

I sigh and send him my address.

Ash: Be there in 10.